Not Invincible

by

Princess McPhee

Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt aren't me. Not even the right gender. So, therefore, I don't own.

Author's Note: Ideas from just about every Angel or Spike fic on the planet. So, if an idea very closely resembles yours, please don't take offense.

Chapter Note: Sorry again, about how long it's been. I had the chapter almost finished, but I needed an end for the longest time! Also, I think this still falls under the category of 'R', but let me know if you think I'm wrong.

Summary: Spike goes to Angel, after Buffy beats up on him the latest time. ('Dead Things') AU from there.

Rating: R

Chapter Seven

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Relieved, a little bit surprised, I nod softly. "Thank you."

He dips his head a little. "It's still not a good idea."

"I know. But I couldn't bear for you to leave yet, Will. Could you have?"

He shakes his head reluctantly. "You know I couldn't've."

"Then we'll just settle for the fact that we're both a little too co-dependant at the moment, and move on, huh?"

He cracks a bit of a smile. "Sure."

I pull his head up until his eyes meet mine. "Want to go watch TV?" I ask. He nods.

"Sure. What about the bitty one, though?"

"Connor? Cordy's insisted she and he have to 'bond'. We've got time."

He smiles at me, and takes my hand. Leading me to the couch, we settle down next to each other, and Spike grabs the remote to click the television on. "Any preferences?" He asks.

I shake my head. "I don't watch TV. I don't know what kind of things it shows, these days."

Spike looks at me incredulously, looking a bit more like himself. "You don't watch television?"
I shake my head again. "I've got an infant son, and a business to run. I don't have time."

"Not even the news?"

"What for? We get three different newspapers, thanks to Cordelia's insistence that we at least 'attempt to keep up with the modern world', I think she said."

Spike laughs. "Sounds like the bint."

I fix him with a glare, though I don't put any real anger or effort into it. "Spike. Please refrain from calling any of my friends a 'bint'."

"Why?"

I growl a little, the sound exasperated rather than threatening. "Because it's rude!"

He pouts out his lower lip and looks for all the world like the teenager he is at heart. "But she's rude to me..." He whines comically.

I can't help but crack a bit of a smile, but I quickly school my face back into 'adult Angel'-phase. "There will be no referring to any of the women in this business as a 'bint', William."

He looks like he's about to protest, but then a contemplative expression crosses his face, and he forgets to argue. "Why do you do that?" He asks, actually sincere in wanting the answer.

"Do what?"

"Call me Will sometimes, and Spike others."

I shrug. "There are aspects of your personality that are utterly William, things that I remember from running together. Then there are things about you that are foreign to me, things you learned when I was gone. That's Spike. It just depends on who you're reminding me of at the moment."

"I should tell you that my name is Spike, and I haven't been William for a hundred years, you realize."

Surprised, I raise an eyebrow. "That's what I was expecting," I admit. "But feel free to surprise me."

He pretends to think about it for a second, chewing dramatically on his bottom lip, and I smile slightly. "Nope. I think I should tell you my name is Spike, and I haven't been William for a century."

I notice that he doesn't actually say that. He just says he should say that. I know Spike well enough to realize that he's too proud to give in and say it's alright with him, so instead he's giving me tacit permission while pretending to deny ever having given it. I didn't realize that he liked being called William, but I guess since it reminds me of the old days, it probably has the same effect of him. It wasn't all terrible, you know.

I smile again. "Okay, Spike."

He grins at me, that cheeky grin that sometimes makes you love him insanely, and sometimes makes you want to scrub it off his face with soap and steel wool. "Glad we got that sorted out."

I nod sagely.

Still grinning, he starts to spread out. Spike is really a little person, but he has this way of taking up entire pieces of furniture that supposedly able to hold four or five people. He sort of throws his arms out to the sides, kicks his legs out to his side, and slouches. He's doing it now.

A side effect of this posture he's taken on, though, is that it brings him significantly closer to me, and I'm not protesting. He throws an arm around the couch behind me, and I lean back into it a little.

It's a quiet evening. Cordy comes in around nine to tell me she's putting Connor to bed, and I nod and go back to watching whatever it is on the television. I think it's monster truck racing. Before, we were watching some inane teen drama on the WB, though, and it was amusing how utterly absorbed Spike was. Now, he's a tense little bundle of nerves, yelling at the TV every time one of the trucks he was rooting for crashes into something and loses.

Thankfully, it ends just after Cordy comes to talk to me, and Spike's resulting channel surfing comes up with nothing he wants to watch, apparently. "You got any vids, Peaches?" He asks.

I shrug, ignoring the 'Peaches' nickname for now. "I think Wesley has some, and I know Cordy does."

Spike screws up his face in disgust. "English's collection of British classics, or the secretary's collection of modern romantic comedies. Sure you don't have anything worth watching around here?"

"Gunn has some martial-arts movies in the basement, I think."

Spike perks up a little more. "That's more like it! You up for it?"

I nod. "Sure." I know Spike and I will do little more than critique the actors' skills throughout the entire movie, but it doesn't sound like a horrible way to spend an evening. And most of the actors in these movies really have no clue what it is they're supposed to be doing, much less how to do it. It's not my fault if between us, Spike and I have several centuries of experience.

And, as I knew things would end up, Spike and I blast the actors to shreds with our words, Spike curses incessantly, and we end up cheering on the bad guys, though they can't act out the incredible stunts any better than the white hats.

Somewhere around the third movie, Spike starts to settle. He no longer bounces in his seat when he yells at the television, and he doesn't point emphatically at every poor side-kick that's performed. His mouth, however, doesn't get the memo and keeps going a mile a minute until well after the end of the credits, which I let run just to give some kind of background noise other than Spike's caustic narrative.

"Time to go to bed?" I ask, knowing what his answer will be.

"Are you kidding? Angel, we're vampires. You know, the scary things that go bump in the night, and given the chance, like to chomp on sweet young things after we scare them half to death? Remember?"

I just nod, a little smirk on my face.

"Take note of the 'in the night', you poofter."

This time, I school my face into a solemn expression and nod sagely. "Okay."

Exasperated, he throws up his hands. "God, you are just an impossible creature!"

"Yeah. And you're such a gem." I don't try my hand at sarcasm very often, but apparently I pull it off, at least occasionally, because Spike cracks up.

"Fair enough," he allows. "But I'm a bad, mean monster. I'm allowed to be a pain in the ass."

My tone takes on a little bit of a reminiscent tone. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't just a royal pain in just about every part of the body, Will."

Spike ignores his name, and leers at me. "Just about? And which parts would it be that enjoy me?"

I grin and point. He raises his eyebrows, clearly not having expected a response quite so graphic, but certainly willing to play along.

"You look... ready to enjoy me." He puts a little emphasis on the word 'enjoy', well aware of the way his voice and verbal teasing makes my libido flare.

"I do, huh?"

"Yep. Want me to do something about it?"

I groan. "God, Spike, do I ever."

He stands and walks over to me, sitting down on my knees and pressing his forehead to mine for a second before diving into a warm, wet, and thoroughly arousing kiss. I'm entirely pissed that this can't go any further.

Our bodies are technically cold, but in reality, no more than room temperature. Add a little friction, and while it doesn't feel like a cave of fire, which is what kissing a human feels like, there's definitely warmth involved to enjoy.

Spike presses as close to me as he can and still kiss me. One of the major benefits of not having to breath, is the not having to come up for breath while enjoying making out.

'Making out'? God, I sound like a teenager.

Our tongues twice together, quickly making me forget I'm even capable of speech. Connor's blissfully asleep and everyone else is gone- Fred's in her room upstairs, but she won't come out until morning, if then. It's quiet in the house, and despite my vampiric senses, there's little to be distracted by.

Will puts his entire being into this kiss, I can tell. I feel the affection and love radiating off of him, and the desire that shoots through his veins. I want to taste it so badly, I can almost imagine his blood in my mouth, thick viscous fluid, slightly coagulated, and so full of hormones it could drive me crazy with lust...

I pull one of my hands from his back and start to run it down the front of his chest. I reach his waist and tug a little on his shirt to make it give up the last semblance of being tucked in, careful not to rip it with vampire strength, in my haste. Pushing the same hand underneath the fabric, I trace the muscle lines of my childe's stomach as I move slowly up the hard flesh of his torso.

When I reach mid-chest or so, I pull my other hand from his back and let it join in, tracing little patterns on Spike's skin, making the hair on his arms stand up and his shoulders goose-bump. As I run circles just around the outside of his nipples with my fingertips, he moans into my mouth and attacks with more fervor. I meet him, pressing harder against his mouth, running my tongue more roughly through his mouth.

He moves his hands, which are resting on my shoulders, now. Starts to rub the back of my neck, getting progressively softer in his touches as he travels down my back. Rubbing and kneading with feather-light touches, and every one sends a minute shiver through my body. Wanting to make him feel like I do, I brush my thumbs softly across his nipples, and he jumps, startled. When he settles back down, I do it again, and he breaks the kiss enough to get air to groan, low and throaty, before I take his lips back.

Rocking his hips gently, he presses some more... sensitive parts together. I control my initial reaction, which is to buck hard, and respond instead with the same soft motion he makes. It's delicious... but it's not enough.

Yanking himself away from me with a quick wrench, Spike's face agrees. "More," he growls, his eyes growing yellow and his hands wandering quickly over my entire torso.

I shake my head. "No."

Spike's face is frustration personified. "I need it!"

My smile is wry, and equally annoyed with my curse. "I know. I do too. But it's too dangerous."

Spike rolls his eyes. "See? This is proof that this isn't enough. You're speaking in full sentences."

"I have been at this a while." As soon as that leaves my mouth, I regret it, not wanting to make Spike self-conscious.

Spike is anything but self-conscious. He rolls his eyes again, and looks down at my with an expression that says he can't believe I actually said that, much less believe it. "Angelus, you've been shagged twice in the past hundred years, and I've been at this more than a century. Between the combination of both those things, there is no way you should be speaking in full sentences."

I shrug, no real answer for him this time. Spike takes it for permission, and captures my mouth again.

I don't protest, knowing that when we reach the wire, Spike will stop. But it feels so good... and if it's only going to be me and my right hand later, I want some good fantasies.

Will starts to rock his hips again, grinding down into me at the same time as he twists one nipple. I buck hard against his body, and he breaks the kiss and grins, reaching behind me to lift my shirt over my shoulders. I let him, and bestow the same attention on his shirt. It can't really hurt to be naked from the waist up, can it?

I know, I'm a very delusioned man.

Pushing on my side and chest, Spike manages to maneuver us so that I'm leaning against the pillows at one end of the couch, half-reclining, and he's on top of me. My legs are splayed out on the couch, and he's half-kneeling over me. A fiery grin in his eyes, he slides down my body a few inches, and starts to paint my chest with his tongue, avoiding my nipples. I growl at him in frustration.

He raises his head again and just continues to give me that spine-melting grin. Spike has never been shy about sex. He's an extremely sexual creature, and he's instinctually good at it. After William realized that the rules regarding vampiric sex were few and far between, he delved into it with beautiful enthusiasm and unerring accuracy when faced with giving someone else pleasure.

Now, his tongue returns to its task for a few moments longer, until I grab him by the shoulders and drag him up to meet my mouth. He's set a faster pace with our hips now, and has to pull away from my mouth to gasp a breath. Well, maybe not has to, but he does, and when he does, he rests his head in the crook of his neck, his breath blowing softly on my sensitive skin. I shiver, and he notices.

Laving his gentle, warm tongue over my skin, he finds the most sensitive places, and proceeds to first lick them, and then softly bite with his human teeth, noting what makes me buck the hardest into his body, and then repeating it.

It's a little tougher for me to reach, being taller than Spike by quite a bit, but I duck my head to his neck, and copy his motions, grinning when he responds just the way I did. I don't think anyone would say it's unnatural that vampires have a thing for necks. It just comes with the territory.

We've been pretty inarticulate so far. The noises we've made have consisted of mostly grunts and moans, and the occasional whine, which we will both deny ever having done in the morning. Now I speak for the first time since Spike insisted he needed more.

"Bite me, William."

Spike freezes, then bites down hard on my jugular with his blunt teeth, clearly not about to not take advantage of this opportunity. Though it sends a familiar shiver through my already over-aroused body, it wasn't what I meant, and I tell him so.

"With your fangs."

He hesitates, then I feel his face change. The steady rocking of his hips against mine quickens, both of us full of anticipation for the bite. And this is Spike. It will be a spectacular bite.

He lines his fangs up on the vein, and presses slightly. As he gets the first hint of blood, his body tenses and he moves faster against me again. I throw my head back and he moans, then presses his vampire teeth into my neck, so slowly that I know it must be killing him, prolonging the erotic feeling for me.

When he finally punctures two perfect holes in my jugular, he pulls back just enough for his teeth to leave the holes. It feels empty for a long moment, and then Spike's strong throat muscles work and he sucks at the punctures, and the thick, dark red fluid begins to flow from my body.

With the first full mouthful, he comes.

Desperate to feel what he does, and since it's been a very long time since I've taken vampire blood, I unsheath my teeth and bite quickly into his neck. It isn't a drawn-out process like Spike's bite, but with a quick retraction and a strong sucking motion, his blood fills my mouth, and it doesn't matter. I arch up at him once more, quickly, and then collapse on the couch, a boneless heap of souled vampire under the equally boneless heap of Spike.

A few minutes later, the remaining clothing becomes uncomfortable, and I lift Spike off me, then head to my room. I motion to him when he looks uncertain, and a smirk breaks out over his face as he follows.

When I reach my bedroom, all I do is strip and fall into bed. Spike falls in beside me, equally naked, and I pray that we both have a lot of self-control in the morning. Luckily, all either of us wants to do right now is sleep. Vampire stamina? Not so much a myth as... an exaggeration. Spike's still young, for the fanged sort of folks, and I've been on a no-sex diet for the last century. Can you really blame us for being overwhelmed?

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Connor awakes at around six-thirty, late for him, and takes his bottle. I consider staying up, since it's almost always futile to try and get him back to sleep, but then I decide that it can't hurt to try. So I sing to him softly, rock him, and for the second time this month, he goes back to sleep. Maybe he's finally growing out of his early-morning wake up time. God, I hope so.

After I put my son back to bed, I crawl into bed with Spike once more. I put on a robe to go tend to Connor, but I shed it now, and crawl back under the covers. I'm careful not to touch him too much, not wanting to wake him up, but as it turns out, he seeks out my body on his own, without ever opening his eyes.

When he curls himself around my body, I sigh, smile, and close my eyes to go back to sleep.

It's nine when the door slams open, someone gasps and disappears, someone else sticks their head in the door, and then the said someone else, who turns out to be Cordelia, shrieks and goes "ANGEL! What are you doing!"

Since I'm thoroughly awake by then and not at all startled by her screaming, I roll onto my back and face her, but I move slowly, and don't bother to open my eyes. "I was sleeping, until you barged in here."

Spike's voice joins mine, and I crack my eyes open to look at him. He's entirely naked and also entirely bare, since I somehow got wrapped up in all of the sheets and blankets. He's lying on his stomach, his head turned towards me, but his eyes are closed and he doesn't move to face Cordy as he speaks. "Yeah, what are you bloody up to, with the not-knocking and the barging in?" He asks.

I fight the smile that comes to my face with the California-talk he's obviously picked up.

Cordy sounds exasperated, a little worried, and more than a bit annoyed. "Well, we figured out what the spider-demons are, and we thought you'd want to know."

Spike flings himself over, sits up and stares Cordy down with piercing blue eyes, all in the space of a second. "Learn. To. Knock." He spits out, and then flops back onto the bed.

Cordelia bristles. "Listen, you bleach-headed bloodsucker, I wasn't looking for you. And I wasn't talking to you, either."

Spike snorts. "You are now," He points out.

Cordy throws her arms up in the air and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. As she walks down the hall, she calls to me, knowing I can hear her. "Angel! Get your butt out here, preferably with some clothes on it, cause we need to talk!"

I grin at the antics of both Cordy and Spike, and put the recommended clothes on before dragging my childe out of bed and into his tattered apparel. "You need some new clothes," I remark idly.

"Yeah? And just how am I going to afford them, pet? The bloody Scoobies weren't payin' me, and you sure as hell ain't."

I wince, realizing I've hit a nerve. "You're right." I think about offering money, but something tells me this isn't the right time. "I can help you find a job, if you want." Later, I'll offer him one with AI.

He snorts. "Doing what? I'm a chipped, bleach-headed, hundred and twenty year-old vampire. Not that, mind you, there's anything bad about that, but it's not exactly conducive to job-getting."

Then he seems to remember what he's trying to be, and meets my eyes with fire in his. "And what makes you think I want a job, anyway? I like living on the run, taking what I need and not doing anything I don't want to."

I shrug, not responding to his accusatory tone. "It just won't work so well anymore."

He doesn't respond, just walks out the door, but I know he's not really upset, because he didn't slam it in my face.

He's just thinking. Thinking about what he can do with his life, or in this case, unlife, now that he's been forced to realize all that he can't do.

"Angel! Get your butt down here!"

God, why do I employ this woman? Would somebody please remind me, because I can't think of a single good reason.

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Cordelia is, thankfully, alone in the lobby when I enter. Not so wonderfully, she's pacing at a rather frantic speed, her hands playing in her hair, and her entire body is tense beyond belief. God, you'd think this was a church in the deep south or something, not Los Angeles, California. It's not like she can possibly be that intolerant of gay people while living and working in this city.

I know I'm distracting myself.

Cordy has no homophobia problems whatsoever. She just doesn't like Spike.

Correction, she really doesn't like Spike. She hates him with a vengeance unmatched in this dimension. She would have been beyond thrilled if he had never been born. Any or all of those work as descriptions of Cordy's problem with me right now.

God, am I in for it.

I walk slowly out of the shadows, moving silently like only a vampire can, entirely reluctant to enter this battle. A flash of dark hair catches my eye and I turn my head swiftly, hoping that it's something that needs killing immediately, before I have a 'talk' with my extremely irate secretary-slash-assistant-slash-who-knows-what-the-hell-Cordy-is.

It's only Fred, though.

Sticking her head out of the office, she gives me an uncertain smile, knowing that she's caught, and waves a little. She doesn't speak, though, and her head disappears back around the corner, after which the office door is quickly closed, and I'm forced to return my attention to the mission at hand.

"Cordy?" I ask hesitantly.

She whirls to face me at a superhuman speed. "What the hell are you thinking?!"

"Do we have to start right off with that?" I ask.

She glares at me. "What did you want?" I could swear she's growling.

"Just, maybe, the usual pleasantries?" I try not to sound too meek, but Cordelia's enough to cow anybody, even when she's not angry enough to rival a Fyorl demon.

She glares, harder. "Hello. Good morning. How are you? Oh, that's right, you're probably ABOUT TO LOSE YOUR SOUL since you SPENT THE NIGHT fucking chip-boy!" She holds up a wooden stake to show her preparedness for my expected change.

I hold up my hands in a show of peace. "Whoa, Cordy! My soul is fine, it's not going anywhere."

"Yeah? How do you know that?" The hand not holding the stake is on her hip.

"I could feel it, when it happened. Before. It's not going anywhere, I promise."

She looks at me piercingly, and seems to consider this. "Really?"

"Really."

Heaving a sigh of relief, she throws her stake on the ground and collapses onto the couch. Then, abruptly, she launches herself off the couch and into my arms, grabbing me in a hug that further convinces me she's been getting superhuman powers. "Don't you dare do that to me again!" She says, and I pat her back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you..."

She draws away, takes a second to compose herself and then has her hands on her hips again before I can even really start to think. It would make me laugh if we weren't in the current situation. "How could you take that risk, Angel?!"

I shake my head, and open my mouth to speak, but she continues without waiting for what I have to say.

"You have a son! A business, and employees, and a ton of other people who know you and really, really don't want to meet your soulless alter-ego! Mostly because they don't really want to die right this minute! And then lets talk about all the people you don't know! I think they like the world, this one, I mean, not whatever one it is that Angelus wants to bring into being!" She stares at me, and defies me to answer.

"I didn't risk it, Cordy. I promise, I wouldn't do that."

"Then how do you explain the whole scene this morning? I suppose you and Spike just needed to 'feel each others' skin' or something? And which brings to mind, Spike? Of all the people that I could find you with, it had to be him?"

"Okay, one question at a time. A: there was some... touching going on last night, but that's none of your business, and I wouldn't risk this business, my son, or my friends. And B: Who I choose to have a relationship with is, similarly, none of your business."

Cordy cocks her head and takes this as a challenge. "Okay, Mr. A, B. I'll just WAIT here for Angelus to take over again after you and chip-boy give in to your more base desires. Because I know you're sex-starved like a ninety-year-old monk, and don't even bother trying to deny it, and it is gonna happen, sooner or later, and don't even bother trying to deny that, either."

I sigh. "Cordy, I realize my control may look weak-" She raises an eyebrow and snorts in derision.

"Is the name 'Darla' ringing any bells?" She asks snootily.

I ignore her and continue. "but I won't let anything happen to the people I love, and if that means keeping my 'base desires' in check, that's what I'll do."

She snorts. "Yeah, right."

I'm getting angry at this point. "Do you think I would put you, and Conner, and Gunn and Wes and Fred and Lorne and Spike and everybody in Sunnydale in danger over a fuck?! Do you?!"

She pauses for a long moment and looks at me, standing here steaming, then shakes her head very slowly. "No. No, I don't, Angel."

I know she's waiting for me to forgive her, but I can't. Not right now. So I just settle for reining in my temper, nodding slowly in return, and turning away.

The stairs seem to take forever to climb, and when I return to my bedroom, all I want to do is sleep, but Conner has other ideas.

Surprisingly, when I roll over, utter a four-letter word and start to rise from the bed, a hand stops me gently. "I got it, Peaches," He says equally softly.

"Really?"

He smiles tenderly. "Yeah. Go back to bed, I'll join you if I can get physics-girl to provide some day-care."

I nod. "Thank you."

He smiles. "Sure."

I knew I created childer for a reason. Beyond just because I was insane.

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Will is once again by my side when I wake up, asleep, and he looks so calm and peaceful lying there, ephemeral beauty pouring from every facet of his being. His skin almost glows, and he looks like an angel.

I know, I know, I'm being insanely cheesy. And if my childe were awake, he'd accuse me of being a 'poofter.' If he could read minds that is, which, strangely enough, I wouldn't put past him some days.

A twitch of one insignificant facial muscle catches my eye, I'm paying such close attention to him, and I peer closer at his sleeping face. Then, all of a sudden, his chest heaves and he takes a breath, then starts panting and gasping for air as though he is still human and running from something monstrously horrible.

One touch on his shaking shoulder is all that it takes to rouse him, and his piercing blue eyes snap open so quickly it almost startles me. His body lies still as stone, knowing both instinctively and from many years as a vampire, that sometimes a disguise works better than violence, but his eyes roam over every corner of the room as quickly as possible, finally landing on me.

He takes another breath, but this one he lets out in a sigh, and I see his body relax minutely. He fakes a smile and tries to pretend everything is fine. "'Morning, Peaches!" The false cheer in his voice is obvious.

I nod slightly. "'Morning i'tis, William." Sometimes the accent relaxes him.

He knows he isn't going to get away with telling me nothing. "Aw, it was just a dream," he says. Then, when the skepticism of my look takes hold, "I'm fine!"

We both arise, though we don't say much, and I look over at the clock. "It's 2 already," I say. "I guess it's not actually morning. Do I need to go and get Connor right away?"

He shakes his head. "Naw. Physics-girl said we could leave him with her as long as we like."

I stretch my arms lazily over my head, pulling the strain from strong muscles unaccustomed to so much sedentary time, and smile a little. "Good. I'm sure we could both use a shower."

Spike's good humor seems to be returning. "Don't you know it, mate!" He grins.

I gather some clothing from my closet, and throw them at Spike. "We really need to get you some clothes," I comment, and he stiffens a little.

"Yeah, I guess." He's uncomfortable. I think that the idea of buying him clothes makes it feel a little more permanent, staying with me, and after all the convincing I've had to do to get him to stay, I know he's not too sure about it.

He's in the bathroom now, and I hear the water start to run as I pick my own shirt, pants and boxers. Reluctantly, I find my boots and put them next to the outside of the bathroom doorframe. I would love to pad around the hotel in my bare feet sometimes, but trouble has a way of showing up when you're unprepared, and not wearing shoes would be pretty unprepared in my line of business.

The door Spike closed to keep in the steam is opened when he hears me outside, and I duck in, stowing my clothes on the counter next to the pile of his. "Sorry that my clothes don't really fit you," I say.

He grins, stepping into the shower. "I don't mind that, pet. But I do wish you had something in your bloody wardrobe that wasn't black!"

"Black is a good color," I tell him mock-indignantly as I step inside the stall next to him.

"Sure. But there's such a thing as too much of a good thing, love."

A flutter goes through me at the random endearment, but I do my best to ignore it. Spike calls everybody 'pet' and 'love.' They're just generalized nicknames. "It's utilitarian," I defend.

"It makes you look like the bleedin' dark avenger!"

"I am a dark avenger, Spike," I tell him with a grin, and then shift the showerhead swiftly so that he gets a faceful of spray.

"Hey!" He sputters a little.

I laugh. It's good to feel so free, and despite all the personal problems that Spike and I and the rest of the gang are going to have to deal with in the coming days, demon activity is low, and my favorite childe is at my side. My human son and friends are safe, and the only case we're on involves spiders. Unlife is being good to me, and I know it.

All of a sudden, there's shaving cream in my mouth, and a smirking Spike standing over me, holding the can up. He shrugs when I glare at him, still smirking. "Sorry, mate. It was too good an opportunity to pass up."

I spit the bitter-tasting foam on the shower floor, making sure a good portion of it lands on my childe's feet. Then I turn and rinse my mouth, take the appropriated can of cream and spray it out into my hands. Shaving is not my favorite chore, mostly because I can't use a mirror, and having Spike smirking at me the whole time makes me all the more nervous I've missed something important.

"Your turn," I tell him, shoving the can and razor into his hands. He looks at me, almost bemused, and his expression clearly says, 'And what planet did you come from, mate?'

"I'm NOT using your poofy shaving cream, Angelus."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. But if you don't shave, I'm not kissing you anymore."

"Who says I need any shaving cream to shave with?"

"If you cut yourself, I might not be able to resist biting you."

He leers at me. "And who thinks that would be a bad thing?"

I grin back, and bare my fangs briefly for him to see. "Everybody on the planet besides you and me, but since we're the only ones in the shower, I guess nobody who actually matters."

He returns the grin, and shoves me in an attempt to get under the water. "Damn right," he replies, and then he dunks his head in the streams beating down on us and stays there until he's convinced his skin is wet enough.

When he brings his head out of the water, he grins at me, and starts to run the razor slowly down his cheeks, chin and neck. At first he's careful, but then he gets overconfident and his hand moves faster, causing the first cut. I flash my fangs at him again, but remain where I am.

He grins, and continues to shave. By the time he's done, he's cut himself no less than five times, and I'm salivating for a taste of his blood, almost mourning the drops that are washed away by the hot streams of water and wasted. He steps closer to me, as close as he can get, and lifts his head to expose the cuts, which are mostly on his neck. "I think you said something about not being able to resist me if I cut myself," he says with a cheeky grin.

I dip my head almost faster than a human eye can follow, and lap at the cuts quickly, but vampire healing interferes and they close before I can get more than a couple of drops from each. Using one hand, I pull Spike's head to the side and bite down hard, piercing his jugular with hardly any effort. He cries out with the initial bite, and as I suck the sluggish, thick fluid from the holes, he moans and tries to grind himself against me.

His blood is hot from the shower, and it tastes so, so good, I don't want to stop feeding, but if I don't, he'll get weak from the loss. Reluctantly, I pull away from the cuts, and he cries out again, this time in despair.

"Angelus!"

I shake my head. "You need to eat," I tell him. "I can see you getting pale."

"I'm a bloody vampire. I'm supposed to be pale."

I refrain from rolling my eyes at him. "Pale as a relative term, then. And I'm not arguing with you about it."

"Actually, you are." He smirks.

I heave a sigh. God, he's insufferable. I want to, I don't know, swat him or something. But that will only make him worse, so instead, I reach around his body and turn the water abruptly off. He yelps a little, and glares at me, but doesn't speak, which, with Spike, is always a good thing. Well, maybe not always, but ninety-nine percent of the time.

I step out of the shower and grab a towel, roughly drying myself off before I step out of the way and hand the other towel to my childe. He takes it wordlessly, and dries himself without complaint, but I notice he's certain to smear a rather large amount of blood that will never come out on my nice, new, clean, white towel.

We leave the bathroom, both more than a little frustrated, but clean and clothed, and head downstairs. Gunn and Wesley have joined the girls, and Cordelia's death glare, this time aimed at my childe, could kill a person if they weren't already dead. But apparently she hasn't told the guys, because they don't immediately jump on me about it as soon as they spot us coming down the stairs. Instead, Wesley motions for me to come over to the table, which I do, and starts to explain about the demons.

"Ah, Angel. Good, you're here. The demons that Cordelia saw in larval form all over the girl's body appear to be nothing more than scavengers." I frown, but nod, wondering why the Powers That Be sent a vision about scavenger demons. Wes answers that in his next sentence, though.

"They do, however, grow extraordinarily large, and if there isn't enough... fresh meat for them to eat, they are not adverse to killing to eat."

I nod again. "So, did you take them out?"

He points to Gunn, who's rather sullenly polishing his battle-ax in the corner of the room. "Indeed we did. Unfortunately, the creatures emit a most foul substance when stabbed..." He, Cordy and Gunn all wrinkle their noses as they remember.

"Okay. So we're done with this case?"

Wesley nods. "It appears so, though I suppose we should keep an eye out for any other sightings, since they were rather small and it wasn't possible to be certain we killed them all."

This has got to have been the shortest case in AI history. The Powers must be really bored up there, to be sending us this.

I leave Wes to search for Fred, and find her and Connor in the kitchen, fixing a meal. It seems a little late for lunch, and much too early for dinner, but I've learned not to ask what goes on in the kitchen. I don't eat it, I don't get to complain about it, which, by the way, is Cordelia's rule, not mine.

"Good afternoon!" 'Psychic-Girl,' as Spike insists on calling her, greets me, bouncing Connor on one hip. "Would you like to visit with him?" She nods her head to the side, indicating my son.

"Sure." She turns away from the stove so that I can take him from her one-armed grip, and then goes back to stirring. "He doesn't get in the way, like that?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Sometimes, of course. He's only a baby. But he just likes to be held so much more than that baby seat... I can't resist." She gives me one of those totally-Fred grins, and coos at Connor for a moment.

"Yeah, you like having Daddy up, don't you, honey?" She asks in a high, baby-talk voice. I smile, and am about to say something when the kitchen door swings open, slams into the wall and Spike thuds in, remarkably loudly for a creature of such natural grace.

"Where's the blood?!"

"The same place it always is, Spike."

He grins. "I know. I just couldn't resist riling you up." He pulls the container from the refrigerator and pours some of the thick liquid into a mug. It's one of the mugs marked for use by the humans only, but I don't mention it. Spike will do what Spike will do, and if I complain, he'll only do it more often.

"I'm glad I'm so irresistible."

He cocks his head and smirks at me. "Think I'm the one that's irresistible, Peaches." He takes a finger, licks it, and runs it down the side of his neck, his posture oozing sensuality.

"William!" I check to make sure Fred isn't watching. She isn't, but there's a little smile on her face that says she saw something, and I groan. She won't tell, but I was hoping to keep this between Spike and I, at least for now. And I guess Cordy, since she can't seem to learn the concept of a doorbell.

"What?" He asks innocently, and I thwap him on the back of the head lightly as I leave the kitchen. God, he's a pain in the ass.

A good pain in the ass, though.

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